The watchman and southron. (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, January 05, 1886, Image 1
lBe Just and Fear not-Let all the Ends thon Ainis't at, be thy Country's, thy God's and Truth's."
THE TR?E SOUTftROS, fcitAfeikhert ?tito?. ?S?*>
?%. 2, 1881.1
SUMTER. S. C., TUESDAY JANUARY 5 1886.
New
s-Vol. V. M. 28;
.roy Tatsday,
WES
H. <?. OSTEENi
SUMTER, S. C.
. TERMS:
^ -Twol>oIkr8 per annum-in advance.
?. S ; A J? ? * H T IBS XIXT3.
K^^^?*^m ?I?e^lon-_.Si 00
^%x??e^^^ueut iasertkm.^.....;.._. 50
v ^i^VWtr?t8 for three mouths, or longer will
^^^??dMttl late*. ...
-?^"^y^gn^ttn?cmt?oji^which^bserye private
^p{i??Jg?*?:wfll be^arged for as advertisements.
L ^ffffy*^-*?* t?bate? of respect will be
^rW^ptwScet?na nb?ces of deaths pub
Abaohitely Pure?
.M - . ^Bri?^^fli?&r" ?ever varies. A marvel of
i pa^q^jSireiagth : and wholesomeness. More
economical tb*a the ordinary kinds, and caa-*
'??Jbie^o^^J?. compet? tioo with the m altitude
^l^Sow test,l?ort weight, alum or phosphate
wvdera. 8<&oiti*f m ?a??. ROYAL BAK- !
ISO SftWDER CO., 106 Wall st., N. Y.
DONT TRADE
3**
P yNOW BEING OFFERED BY
? J. B. CARIL
ram. .TO? HATE .
:AMTTsnEr>
I -?-?THE- :
AR? BARGAINS
-Di
Merchandise
? examination- of our stock and prices
hy cash bnyers, before making
their purchases imll convince
them that we are offering
{> BARGAINS.
AfKieBlIINE OF PRI??TS,
- ; Latest Styles, Very Low.
CASHMERE S,
Jersey Jackets,
Corsets and Hosiery,
? Bleached and Browrv Homespun,
PIULOW CASING AND SHEETING
: ggg Diffartat Grades, all Low Down.
Ladies' and Gents7 Gloves,
GENTS' SCARFS,
WHITE AND COLORED SHIRTS,
A fUR Cue in the Latest Styles.
HATS AND SHOES.
Jfj?v. A ?Large Assar tment of
5 ^ HATS FOR. MEN AND BOYS,
. t?z?km^w&tr SHOES FOR
Ladies, Gents and Children.
GROCERIES.
. f A T?^LINB OF HEAVY AND FANCY
GROCERIES, AND
^S-Oaiined Goods
Of Tarions Kinds.
1 DRIED FBITITS.
Peaches, Apples, Cherries, Ac.
& r-.' Give me * call, next door north of Monaghan's.
v " J. B. CARR,
"> 3for3_SUMTER, S. C.
? PEGAN CULTURE.
^'"fra??lCA9:PI4>URISBES WHEREVER
X_THB HICKORY, grows, and a well
~- growa Crea yields a net ann nal income of
V.. S35to$50. Mr. A. C. Daniel of Crawford,
0 G*^ (Ogtetborpe Co.) has a tree that bears
:..yr ftaairTWioflFTEEN bushels of fine nuts.
.They gell readily at from $4 to $5 per bosbe!.
^^ tree?Ugia to bear when six to eight
/^jmn *\&.,I jam now selling fine two-year
''~2?z-Jnm,.c? tho best and earliest bearing variety
life at the following fwy low prices :
/ ; Each 50 cents
FeeDweo $4.00
:*^^?W 10-00
^ ^trHoadred 15.00
^ ri'JfoehaTKe for packing. Trees ready for
?|?am November 1st.
S. W. PEEK, Proprietor,
Hartwell Nurseries.
. I ' : Hartwell, Ga.
^AJt?rof ?TheNnrsery and theOrchard."
<$1.25 per copy, in boards
:.$I*0?. ?ead for copy and be yonr own
R? KEELS,
at Law,
s. c.
practice in adjoining
ig made a specialty.
"What win not length of time be able ti
?banger
NEW YEAR'S DAY.
[Original.]
Bb you see how the Old Tear hides his eyes
. Hides- his eyes as he steals away?
Tot they shone, like stars, frith a glad sar?
prisa,
s Only A twelvemonth ago, to-day.
He had come to be king o'er the world of
men;
Gifts he had brought te his lavish hand,
And wa, his subjects, frosted bim then,
And shouted and laughed at the king's
command.
Tho bells they rang, and the people cheered,
And the preachers praised him and wel?
comed him in
.Never a king more royal appeared,
Or ever was hailed with a lordlier din.
Then, sooth, he began his gifts to bestow,
As a monarch might ch. a waiting band
Of his Quartiers, smiling and bowing below,
Waiting-his pleasure and kissing his hand.
He was a giver impartial as Fate
Donor to One, and donor to all
And the crowds that gathered his pleasures
to wait
Caught, each of them, something his hand
let fall.
To these it was Love, that is strong as life,
; To those it was Death, moro tender than
j love;
t To some it was victory after strife,
To others defeat and the sorrow thereof.
Till at last his courtiers grew ill content,
" And each man sighed for his neighbor's
dole.
And the Year was old, and his strength was
spent
' Toll the bell for his parting .?oui
Toll, but be glad, for the old should die,
And love and life belong to the new
Why over the Oid Year should we sigh?
He was but a niggard to me-to yon.
. But this glad Kew Year, with, smiles in his
eyes,
This new young king, who is good to soe,
He will make ns happy and wealthy and
wise.
And for him we win clamor joyously
Shoat, tfll our throats with shouting are
hoarse,
Ring the bells and kindle the fires,
For he will bring to us joy, perforce
Give to our hearts oar hearts' d?siras.
Barely he cannot be stern or sad
He, with the light in his ?h?^?ig eyes
We, his subjects, shall ail be glad,
Dowered, at last, with his sweet surprise,
"What the hard bid Year to our prayers de?
nied
We shall win from the Ne w Year, glad and
gay, . V
And live-with his bounty satisfied. .
Welcome him in! It is New Year's Day.
LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON.
BOSTON, Dec. 34.
[OrJgtoaL]
? KEW TEAK'S STOBT OF FACT WITH BU?
LITTLE FANCY.
One reason why everybody loved Graoa
Merton was because she had such a good
heart She wasn't a bit selfish. She never I
saw a ragged and uncared for child, a j
wretched beggar, or a hungry animal, that '
she did not express commiseration and In- j
stactiy set about doing something to make
the object of her pity more comfortable.
Yet she was only a child herself.
She lived in one of the "county seats" of
northern Indiana, where in sommer the level
roads are so deep with white sand that horses
walk as though walking in snow drifts, and j
in winter the coffee-colored rivera are so
smooth and solid that no other skating rinks
are needed. At the time I write of Grace J
was nine years old, very pretty and very
much liked. She had a bright face, big gray
eyes, that had a habit of growing very misty J
when anything moved her to pity, dark
brown hair, and, as everybody said, **the
sweetest manners in the world"
The Jewetts, who were poor-superla?
tively poor and very indolent-lived near
enough to the Mertons for Grace to know
them welL Like most of their shiftless class,
tiley divided their poverty with a dog, th?
most miserable, mangy, haggard-looking dog
that ever owned an empty stomach. They
were the kind of people who move often, and
always for the worse.
One day they moved away-took them
j selves and their indigence in the same direo
tien the star of empire is said to take-and
left the dog homeless. He was not mud
verse off than he had been before, excery
that he had no shelter and was Lonely. He
was a sad, shrinking, taciturn dog, utterly
without any wholesome doggish ways, and
'ie was old He knew he was an in-favored
brate, hideous to look upon, and the knowl?
edge embittered his thoughts and took away
bis assurance. Any one could see at a
glance that he was a dog that bad always
been under the harrow. He had the air of a
creature the world cats, the same air that
shabby, disreputable persons get after a
long intimacy with misery. When he saw
a stranger looking at him he shrank to
about half his normal size, and slunk away.
His eyes had a look of hopeless sadness in
them not often seen in creatures below the
human species.
This dog had had too much harsh experi?
ence to make any appeals for charity. He
knew the world as well as he knew hunger.
After his owners departed he lurked?
ground their miserable house itt * ^host-like.
I way for a day or two, sleeping in a co
of the tumble-down shed at the reai
night, and sitting mournfully on the ric
front step in the day time. He resemble
old human pauper who has outlived kin
and sympathy. At last hunger got
whip hand of him, and he went out to
his rack. He was as wise as he was m
able, and he went to Grace Merton.
Prettily dressed, in dark, rich red,
very happy, she was raking tho leave;
early autumn from the croquet ground, s
ing softly to herself. The dog stopped
tile sidewalk and looked at her through
iron fence. She was very busy and
much interested, and she did not see him.
was a new picture of "Beauty and the Bee
The child, in her beautiful bright cloth
with her sunny face, represented opule;
comfort, joy, all the rich possessions of
to the starving creature that watched
silently. Looking np suddenly, she saw
red, tearful eyes staring at her beseechir
through the fence. Accompanying the t
were a flabby, woe-begone mouth,
drooping ears, and a shapeless, shrunl
shaggy black body.
Grace was the only human being who co
value the soul of that wretched dog as h
as the soul of a king.
"Oh, it's Prince, dear old Prince!"
cried. "Poor old fellow! Did they 1?
you all alone?" And running to the gate,
called him to her, petted, flattered and ax
any caressed the bleary, disreputable-look
creature. Then she fed him, though the t
was an almost endless one, his capacity, af
his long fast, being something phenomena
The dog began to believe in humanity o:
more. His recent bard skepticism faded <
of his mind like a dream before the reviv?
ing power of Grace's sympathy and mb
trations. His future lay in the chi]
hands, and she accepted the responsibility
once.
She went to his old quarters with him a
Axed him a comfortable bed out of scraps
carpet and old newspapers, talking to him
the time, telling him how sorry she was :
him, and what a "good, good old doggy"
was, and how she wished she had a house
her very own that she might make him '
comfortable."
Meantime the degenerate Prince stood 1
toning in an attitude of humble gratitn<
He was past the days bf extravagant delig
and exuberant joy. She explained to h
that his daily bread would be provided i
Understood and gave up all idea of persoi
exertion at once. After urging him to
cheerful and promising, to see him often e
left him.
The question of how to maintain him pi
; ried Grace. She had been taught that wh
she dispensed charity she alone must pay t
cost; that it would not be creditable to gi
away other people's food and property. S
revolved the problem over and over in h
mind on her way home without seeing ai
solution. She sat down On the wide fro
balcony of her home with the heaviest hea
she had ever carried. It never occurred
her to ask help in her project. She had be
taught self-reliance, and she remember)
having been told more than once thats!
must not think she could bring home all tl
stray dogs and cats that excited her comps
i sion. Her mother's fine house could not 1
turned into a hospital for unfortuna
animals;
, She saw light at last. She was in tl
habit of carrying her dinner to school, as tl
school house was on the other side of ti
:own across the river. She would rn? na j
to get as large a dinner as possible, carry
to poor Prince, and do without herself SI
decided on this pian, not thinking for a rn?
ment that sbo would be doing wrong t
pursue it. She thought she had a right t
do as she pleased with her own dinner. Sh
had a very clearly defined opinion that he
I mother would object, so she said nothing c
her prot?g? to any one.
This programme Grace carried ont fo
two weeks. At noon, when the other sch oe
children ate their dinners and had a goo
time, she walked back to tho old house wher
Prince lodged, saw him devour the swee
bread and butttT, the tender meats an*
dainty cake which had been prepared fo
her, and then went back to school dinner les*
Her unusual appetite at tea was remark?
upon, and as her dinner-basket came hom
empty every evening it was supposed tba
?chooi and hard study were benefiting he
health.
One unlucky day a soulless little girl dis
covered her in her benevolent work and tok
Mrs. Merton; wh"8 immediately issued aproe
hunati?n that no more dinner should be car
ried away to feed dog?; She argued that i
Grace could come within a-square of nomi
to give away her dinner she could come al
j the way home and eat her dinner there.
After some entreaty and tearful eloquence
! in behalf of tho vagabond dog Grace was per
nutted to carry refuse scraps to him. Thi<
worked very well until the cook complained
that she could keep no cold meats i rom mea
to meal, Grace regarding everything sh?
could find as "refuse,1' and carrying it to th?
shaggy starveling.
The freedom of the pantry was then denied
her. Still the dog was on her hand?, and hu
appetite was better than his circumstances,
j He slept well, but Grace did not. His faith
j in her kindness and ability was without th?
j shadow of doubt, but the chid knew very
well that faith alone would not ward ofi
j starvation.
She could not appeal to her father and
mother for further help, as they had often
told her that whatever philanthropic wort
she undertook on her own account she must
carry through by her own exertions.
She thought of her money-a possession
she attached bat little value to and rarely
remembered. She counted it-eighty-thraf
jents in au. How long would that amount
maintain a dog-a dog like Prince, whoo?*
gastronomic talents were of the highest
order? She had no idea, but she consulted s
butcher, a big, bluff, kind old fellow, who
knew her wclL
"Well," said he, "a dog could eat eighty*
three cents up at a meal if you bought
good meat for him; or he could rub along
quite awhile if ye kind o' 'lowanced him."
Struck with the old man's wisdom, Grace
made him this proposition: "I will leave the
eighty-three cents with you and will call
every day for scraps until it has run out.
Please make it go as far as you can."
The talkative butcher inquired into the
case, and as soon as he understood it offered
to contribute to the dog's support by saving
scraps Which otherwise would be thrown
away.
Grace regarded this offer of help as a spe?
cial boon of fate, and went her way relieved
of a terrible burden. Poor Prince's board
was certain.
Poor Prince 1 Never was a creature more
! pitiably misnamed. The irony of nomencla
? ture found rare expression in him Prince
j only of the vast kingdom of Poverty! Heir
j to the sorrowful estates of Pauperdom! Most
nnprincely in person and demeanor was he.
Every movement of his unhandsome body,
the expression of hopeless misery that sat
perpetually on his aged countenance, and
the forlorn droop of his tail, all bespoke that
Ignoble melancholy that comes from chronic
and insurmountable poverty. He was at the
foot of the ladder, with no prospect of ever
getting np a single round, and, worse than
that, with no hope.
Misfortunes travel fn groups. As soon as
you have disno^ed of one, you are likely to
? meet his twin brother. "The days when tho
! skies are clear are the days on which the
J avalanches falL" That evening,, as Grace
"was coming from school, freer from anxiety
than she had been since she had assumed the
care of Prince, she met bini, on the river
"bridge. He was shrunken to less than his
.usual size; his eyes were moro watery than
?ver; his month flabbier; hi$ tail drooping
like a plume in a rainstorm; Ms whole per?
son an appeal Grace's heart stood stilL What
was the matter? Some dire misfortune had
?again laid its heavy hand on the unlucky
beast
No mother could have suffered greater
t?rtara in seeing her children hungry and
destitute than did this child on seeing this
poor old brute a pauper. She cried out
against the meanness of the world that be?
grudged poor Prince food and shelter, and
great tears fell on the shaggy back , of the
canine beggar. She petted him and tried to
comfort him with many an endearing name,
which must have made his old heart glad,
though he still looked woe-worn and melan?
choly, and she still sobbed in a heart-broken
way ah every caress.
Together the two sad hearts went over the
bridge and down the long street bordered
with pretty houses, through whose windows
the firelight glanced, making the raw
autumn air seem even colder than it was, by
contrast. The child felt the first throb of
indignation and rebellion against the world
that she had ever known. For the first time
she realized the selfishness of human kind.
All the people who liv*d in those houses were
warm and comfortable, and, as she well
knew, daily wasted food enough to keep half
a dozen dogs in opulence, yet they would all
laugh at the very idea of supporting a dog
like poor Prince.
"Together the two sad hearts went over the
bridge,"
Half way home they met a big boy, who
said: "Hello, Grace, where did you get that
walking sawhorse with a dog's skin hung
over it? Hadn't I better drop him gently
into tho river and appropriately close his
melancholy -career V
The child knew that the boy was only try?
ing to bc funny, but her heart was so 4*eavy
already that his insult to Prince nearly broke
it. Was this world so mean that anything
not beautiful had no place in it? The dog
understood the fling at his defects of person,
bat it did not wound him much. He was
accustomed to insult;. To heal the sting
Grace called him a "noble fellow,*' a "splen?
did doggy," a "nicoy boy"1 a hundred times.
Still she could not raise his spirits. They
fell lower and lower as they neared his old
home. Grace fancied that he shed tears,
and perhaps he did.
When they reached Prince's unpriucely
apartments the cause of his gloom was ap?
parent. A family had moved in and the
<?og had been banished. Around the door?
step which Prince had adorned so long
swarmed a cluster of ragged and dirty chil?
dren. Grace saw at once that there was
just cause for his expulsion. Too many
human mouths were there lo be fed to admit
of hospitality to a gaunt, ill-favored dog.
They looked like very hungry mouths, toa
Even Prince's bed had been seized upon.
It was doubtf ul if he could holfi. his title,
"Prince of Poverty,"' beside the new tenants.
Considering the fact that they were human
their claims were even greater than his.
The child's heart was sorrowful What
could she do with the superannuated dog
which hung so helplessly upon her charity ?
Take him home she dare not Even the
woodhouse and stable were considered too
good for him by those in authority there.
She had heard him discussed and denounced
in the family circle too of ton. It had even
been said that he was too untidy and un?
sightly to be "harbored'' anywhere. And ho
was very dirty. There was no denying that.
She admiited it to herself as she looked at
him through her blinding tears. But he
couldn't help it, poor fellow. Dirt and ugli?
ness seemed to stick to him in spite of him?
self. And what had he ever done that made
everybody so set against him? she wondered.
Nothing; nothing in the wide world that abs
ever had heard of. His only offense seemed
to he that he wasn't good-looking. At thia
point of reasoning she gave way to a fresh
burst of tears. This world was evidently too
clean and prosperous for an ngly, worn-out
dog,- no matter how good a heart he had.
?he wished it were a dirtier world-perhaps
;t would be kinder.
She remembered the dingy houses across
the river which she passed sometimes, around
whose greasy doors children, dogs and
dickens played in one common bed of dust
Such houses were not too Ano and clean to
shelter evon an ugly old dog. She almost
wished she lived in one of them Anyhow,
she wished her mothers house bad bare
floors, 'nsread of rich ca:*pets. and that, there
W--.S an old kitchen, or shed, on the place
dirty enough to contain a dirty old dogs
beti.
Down the street and across thc bridge -w ent
3-racc with the dog. walking slowly and be?
dewing the way with tears. 1 hey moved
along aimlessly, the dog relying on the
child, and the child sid beyond expression
and not knowing where to ask for aid or
what to da
After nrneh mgSan^ftote j^ndering they
went up the stairs to her father's jjflice, ard
went in. The child told the story of their
woes, with tears and sobs, and the dog stotfMl
by in silent hut touching corroboration. TB
sight would have moved even hard hearts fl
pity, and Grace's fa' her was a sympathet^B
man. Ho was kind to a rare decree; b^H
poor Prince, stan-linr there in a erouchin^B
spiritless at; iiude, was so nely, so ropellar^H
so entirely disheartening a sight that fl
could not ' hink of taking charge of him nfl
der anv circumstances.
"What can I do with him, Grace." raid ifl
despairingly. "I cannot have him ri rou
He makes nie sick to look at him. He defl
indeed."
"Ch, papa," said the little philanthropies
with a fresh flood of tears, "lot him ma'-e ll
j home in the hall, in the very rceaue^B
corner of it. I hive enga-red his board, a fl
I will wait upon him. li? will not take
i much room, and be will be so good. I kn efl
j he isn't pretty, though I told hun he was ifl
i causo everybody else says such cruel thin^H
to him. His heart is nearly broken: nnl
papa, you know he di i n't mik? himself^H
maybe God made him as well as: me, afl
wouldn't like to have him abused just l^H
cause he made him ugly."
The argument prevailed, and Prince toefl
up his abode in a corner, more luxurioiH
quarters thau he had ever been accustomed
to ia his impoverished life. Grace oarriefl
him food, according to promis?, and liffl
went on for him as smoothly a- the nature ol
things permitted. He knew the hours i fl
which she parsed to and from school, and wal
always at the foot of the stairs waiting fofl
her. Something very like joy lighted up hil
sorry old face when he saw her coming^aaa
though he grew more rheumatic and spiri
less every day, ho was never too ftUe'
; escort her a part of the way on her
1 In the mornings he went through tallow
j with her and never, left her until she wi
j near the school house, and in the evenings 1
i always crossed the long bridge beside he
evidently in as high .a state of bliss as h
! crushed spirit could rise to. Ke was neith?
protection nor ornament to her, but she e:
joyed his companionship because she knew
; pleased him to be with her, and hideous as 1
i was she loved him.
If a dog can worship, that dog worshipe
j that child. Nobody else ever said anythin
? kind and pleasant to him. Most persons wi
; saw him made open fun of his unattractrs
! presence, not dreaming that his understau'
I ing of the English language was by no meat
I trifling, or not thinking that a dog has an
J feelings which words can -wound. Grace
? father never spoke unkindly to him, but 1,
rarely spcflce to him at all, and never looke
at him if he could help it. .
Autumn slipped.away, December d?clin?e
i and at last it was the day before Ne
j Year's. The afternoon was bitter cold, bi
; dear as a winter gun and the crisp winier a:
! could make it. Prince escorted Grace aero;
I tile river bridge as usual "When the
j reached the point where they were in ti
j habit of separating, the child paused, gaT
the dog his customary friendly pat on tb
I head, and said: "Good-by, Prince, nicey doj
j To-morrow will be New Year's, and yo
I shall have no end of pood things to ea'
Yes, and Til take you to walk, Princey, dea
-a long walk, up to the house, if I dare."
The poor brute looked up into her fae
with eyes full of anguish, and whine
piteously, without turning to go back."
"Oh, Prince, poor old doggy," she entreal
ed, "don't grieve so at leaving me or y o
will break my heart Of course you ar
lonely, old fenow, but you know I'll como tc
morrow."
Still the dog whined, kissed her gown, au
implored her, with his eloquent old face, t
; let him go farther.
They went on, together, Prince rubbing
against her clothes and looking often int
her face with his bleared and pathetic eyes
as though there was something he wanted t
say very much if he only could At last the]
arrived at Grace's home, and she again badi
him good-by, sweetening the sorrow of part
ing with many a loving word Prino
whined, lingered, wept-Grace was sure bi
eyes overflowed with tears-kissed her gowi
again and again, then turned away on<
started slowly back toward his lonely lodg
ings.
Tho child watched bim with a heart full o
loving pity and oyes glistening with tears
He had never looked so old, so feeble or s<
sorrowful before. Twice ho stopped, turnee
round, looked at her and slowly wagged hi
tail as a token of submission to her command
She watched him till he was a mero speck oi
the bridge, and then till he was altogethei
invisible.
A few minutes later a party of Grace'!
school friends came along, on their way t<
the river to skate until dark, and begged thai
she might go with them. Childhood's sor
rows, heaven be thanked, are soon forgotten.
Prince's melancholy image f oded rapidly fron
her mind, under the inspiration of the hour.
The river was like glass, and the evening
cold and clear. Tho party on the ice gre?
larger and larger; the laughter louder anc
merrier. Bigger children, grown up chil?
dren, oud some who had almost forgottei
that they ha/1 ever been children, heard the
echoes of joy, slipped the leash of then
cares and joined them.
The river wa* soon a kaleidoscope of fly
ing figures. Like Mercury, theil' wing:
were on their heel-:, and they moved with
the grace and velocity of creatures whe
were more than human. What a dash ol
joyous life th- y mada on the level* scow-cov?
ered landscape! . . . ....
The night fell upon them so softly they
saw not the change. Tho white snow defied
the darkness, and the far, fair-faced moon,
maie herself glorious, as if .to do honor to
the old year, who was going forever more
away, and to greet with smiles tho New Year
who was coming for a brief revel over the
.Hirth.
One figure that went out to join the
?katfers was singularly destitute of anything
like joyousness. It was Prince. From his
office dormitory, which stood near the big
bridge, he had heard the chatter of the girls
and boys as they passed by in little groups.
Recognizing Grace's voice he left his shelter
and draggeil himself and his aches and long?
ings out into the cold and down to the edge
of the river where they were skating.
Nobody noticed him. Even Grace did not
see him, and he gave her no hint of his
presence. He would not obtrude upon her
pleasure. Ho was too considerate for that.
He sat shivering upon the bank, his rheu?
matic bo ly crouched into a mere lump, his
bleary eyes following every movement of
his idol with hungry affection. Though, for
the time, he was out of her mind, she was
never out of his. She had other interests,
other friends, other affection*. He had no
other creature to give him a word of kind?
ness or a mouthful of food. It was a com?
fort to him to watch her. even from a dis?
tance. Hi* lifo was so bitterly lonely that
he was grateful for the poor privilege of
looking at enjoyment from afar.
Grace was a good skater, and when she
i distanced her companions or executed a par?
ticularly fine pigeon wing Prince fairly
switched his tail off in applaudatory enthusi?
asm, though nobody saw or heard him.
H,
Bed
?m
?n~
?k
Wv1'
? '
W\cQ
?to
?he
I ? a
V cf
B to
Bor.
ti
Kt
?nt
Bne !
?t i
?^^^^?P^^^ff^^uponTvhjchMs own 1
light body, rested. His" dripping hair was
freezing, in the bitter breath of the night,
and so were the brown locks of the child he
was trying to save.. "With his teeth, his
paws, and all the strength that remained in
his poor old. frame he held on to her, moan?
ing pitifully because he could do no more.
And thus they fo?ud him, poor Prince.
Aye, a prince indeed, worthy of royal robes
and royal honors.
Scarcely less tenderly than the half dead
child was he cared for. One home was open
to him.as to a king. Yes, any home in the
place, would have gladly received him then.
Nb carpet. was too line for him to walk
uppn. now; no couch too good for him.
Never in his hard lifo had he rested
on such a soft bed as was now his in Dr.
Merton's handsome hou*?. And how they
wept over him and tried to do something for
him." His life, hitherto despised, had suddenly
become precious. The value of the heart so
long hidden behind his mark of ugliness was
known at last
And he understood and was grateful. He
beat his tired tail upon his rug slowly and
painfully-for he was very weak-to express
his appreciation of their kindness; and Ma
faded old eyes lighted up with pleasure.
He looked so lovingly toward the door of
Grace's room that at last they moved him in
there and placed him where he could look at
her. It is doubtful if hs hal ever been so
happy before, but it was not to last.
Grace had youth and health, and she re?
covered from the shock and exposure in a
few days. But Prince was old and infirm,
and the dreadful accident had been too severe
? strain upon his already exhausted vitality.
Hi3 soul-''only a dog's soul," but a noble
?oul all the same-parted company with its
worn-out body in the morning of the New
Year. . As the child awoke he fell asleep-the.
sleep of death. As ho went out of life he
left to his idol a message more beautiful and
precious than pen can translate. It was con?
veyed by a look, without sound or speech,
but it bore a burden of love unutterable
and-shall I not say ii?-everlasting.
''Dead, yet never to die tn the hearts that
icere grateful to him"
Prince! Aye, thrice a. prince, but no
longer poor. Rich in the affection he had
hungered for all his life; rich in honor; rich
in valor; rich in possessions of which.nothing
could rob him. Few princes, robed in the
purple, have death sweetened with such
grateful tears as fell over his shaggy old
body. All that he had-bis lifo-he had
given to the one being he loved. He, the
poorest, most despised of humble creatures,
had been able te repay her kindness a
thousand fold.
Dead, yet never to die in the hearts thal
were grateful to bim. No longer Prince ol
Poverty, but Prince of Nobility forever.
GjLETETTJDE GABRISOK,
NEW YORK, Dec 24.
One Way of Working Strangers,
[New York Letter.]
There is one elegant fraud who goo3 up
and down Broad way who must get a very
good living out of the way he works
strangers. Hs u<ed to have a large full
beard, but he has shaved it off now and
wears only a mustache. He walks along
with a look of deep dejection on his face as
though he was thinking of something shock*
ingly unpleasant When be?is almost up to
you he glances into your face, catches
your eye, stops as .though moved by a sad?
den impulse and approaches you in a most
confidential way. . . ., .
He talks vary low and "you think he is go?
ing to impart some valuable secret, but he
isn't. He uses good language, seems to be
very respectable, and after he has talked a
minute you think he has..been overcome by
great misfortune and deserves better treat?
ment than the world has bestowed upon
bim. Nine times in ten he .makes a hit,
and yon never give him less than a quar?
ter. I watched this old cuss all one night,
and if he. got less than $15 I am a Dutch?
man-whiofc I. ain't. People who know a
good deal about him tell me he has got a I
nice flat over west of Sixth avenue, where
he Uves very comfortably with his family,
and they say he sporta around in the day- :
time like a good deal of a swell
E~gs from Ancona, Italy?
. ?. ' [Pall Mall Gazette.]
The'report just published int a blue book
from Vice Consul Tomassini on the trade of
Ancona, in Italy, affords an excellent ex?
ample of what such a document ought to
be. It is entirely devoted to eggs, the ex?
portation of which to England commenced
but ten years since, and now has assumed
such large proportions that 520 railway
trucks, of ten tons each, are required for
their transport. The trade increases every
year, and now amounts <t? about 75.000,000
eggs per annum. Of these, 50,000,000 are
forwarded by rail to England, and the re?
mainder to Switzerland, Germany, Belgium,
and Holland.
They are packed in straw in long boxes of
dry white-woo ?, weighing about 253 pounds
each and containing 1,440 egg* The boxes
are divided in half by a board, and wben
sawn through form two boxes 7?0 each,
without touching the contents. For the
convenience of the custom houses they are
so constituted that pointed iron rod can,
if necessary, be thrust through thom so as
to prove without unpacking that they con?
tain nothing in the shape of bottles or
packages of tobacco. These eggs are col?
lected in tho district aronui Ancona and
the neighboring towns.
Stuck on a Little Problem.
[Chicago Herald.]
Some follows seem to think that thero is a j
great daal of wit in joking the barber about ?
his alleged prop9nsity to talk. I have been i
shaving for twenty-six y oar.:, and this kind
of middle-aged wit is gutting q:iit3 tira-oma
in my shop. The la^t time a customer
made a sally in that direction at me-aa i
it was only yesterday-I says to him, says I:
"You are very witty to-day, but I can
sea from tho shape of your forehead that
you have a sharp, quick brain."
"^So my friends say," says hs proully.
"Yes," 1 ecutinu3d, "and I want you to do
me a favor. Up at tho other e-id of the
shop you see those two mon playing che s.
Tuey haven't said a wori for half an hour.
T;iey'ro stuck ou a little problem, and I
want you to go and help 'em out-1 can tell
by lookiag at you that you have a great
head for such thing;."
"Certainly," says ho, "but what kind of a
pro hie m is it/"
"A chess nut." says L
The Peasant of the South.
[Nashville American.]
The southern agricultural laborer-thnt
is, the negro-is bettor contented with his
lot than the farm hand cf the north.
Moreover ho has a better prospect for in?
dependent material ad vaucjmont. His
freedom, with its accompanyiug responsi?
bility, has mado bim gravar and steadier
than in the old idave times. He sings le^a, j
but works with a moro determined zast and j
clearly dofinod motive power. The negro, !
tho free peasant of the scutb, attachai to
the land an i holding a matorial and in?
creasing interest in its product, has a better j
futur? before him than the vagrant "farm
hand" of tho north.
What Hon on Cost in England.
[Exchange.]
Honors come high in England, but people
must havo them. A correspondent says !
30.073 pooplo th?re pay a guinea each for
privilege of using a crest on their plate and j
note pipar, and 17,347 piy 2 guineas for
painting it on their carriage?. Nearly
$4?0,00J revenue is derived from this
source.
.-!
So Natural.
Among new clockwork toys for the com?
ing Christmas is a baar, so natural that
when it snarls and snaps at little girls they
give mouse-like squeaks and stand tip tot
With flight
W?at Our Editors Say;
, ?V
Our Eyes, are Openi
. : Abbeville Medi?m* . ?
We predict that Hon. James P. Iz
lar, of Qraqgeburg. w,i?l be a candidate,
either for the position of Governor.pr
Lieutenant Governor next ?year... We
cannot decide yet which office , he will,
run for.. Mr. Izlar is a number,.one
mao, but we fear be savors too much of
ring rule and bossism and we are there?
fore afraid of bim. The man who ja
likely to be run by.the ring is.pot the
mau for our next Governor. , We are
not pronouncing sentence, but simply
giving notice that our eyes are oped.
Plain Talk. .
Anderson Intelligencer.
'Our State is passing through a very
critical epoch in its .history, and if it
passes the crisis without some great
convulsion, it will be because the peo?
ple chose 'rather to bear those ills they.
have* than take part in the convulsion
which seems to be the natural result of
our present legislation. More dissatis?
faction is expressed with our legislation
now than, has been, heard since.1876.
Why is this? Xi is be cauce the gov?
ernment of the State seems to ignore
demands made for legislation ,, from
classes that have a right ..to be heard ;
and the legislation of the State seems to
be more in the interest of the few than
of the many.1
The Hen Law Practically Abol?
ished.
yieicberry Observer.
It would have been as well for the
Legislature to repeal the Hen law out
and out. lt bas rendered the law per?
fectly valueless by passing the bill fix?
ing the priority of liens. It gives the
landlord the first lien ; ancT this lien is
unlimite' There need be no written
contract, and of course no record or
filing. The laborer has the next lien ;
and that need not be recorded. Then
if a merchant wants to advance supplies
he can have the next lien. But what
merchant is going to make advances
under these circumstances ? And bow
is a poor man, white pr black, who is
not a 'landlord/ but who would rather
rent land than work as a 'laborer* for a
landlord, to get supplies to run a rented
farm? We confess we cannot see. ;
In view of the priority law, the lien
law now, sp far as the interests of the
poor man and the merchant are con?
cerned, is a hollow- moci?^fciJfcby^
then leave it on the Statute books?
. _. Carolina Spartan. , .
The new deal cry is only slumbering.
If the people have. been saying little
lately the action of a majority of. the
Legislature will arouse them. . The ten?
dency of that body, backed by reports
of the State officers and the message of
the Governor, is to enlarge appropria?
tions ana increase the taxes. The State
debt is already over six dollars to each
inhabitant and then when the county
debt is added, in some counties, it will
run up to ?16- That is, a small fam?
ily of six persons must feel responsible
for ?96 of county and State, indebted?
ness. Truly the Democrats are no.t.act?
ing on the cry of 'retrenchment and re^
form' that sounded from every speaker's
throat ?hat entered the campaign in
1876. Th ere are . come honorable ex?
ceptions in the Legislature that always
voted for. reform ; others made a strad?
dle, but the majority were for the ap?
propriations and an increase of the State
deb'fc. : -:
Greenville News.
There is one man in the legislature
we want to see r?'-e??cted. It is S.
Pope, of Newberry. We know nothing
of his ability or generar value, but be
has the democratic idea that the money
paid by the taxpayers is a sacred tru>t
and to be zealously guarded and .fully
developed. He has demanded and
voted for economy and the limitation of
expenses to absolute necessities through?
out thc session. Possibly, he has gone
too far, but if he bast it is on the right
side. Excessive economy can. be cor?
rected, but extravagance is a sin the
evil of which cannot be remedied, for
money once spent is gone. Newberry
ought to send Pope back and keep him
in the legislature as a wholesome ex?
ample and a brake on the wagon that
is now being driven down hill at such
alarming speed.
There is a large number of gentlemen
who ought not to be sent back to the
legislature or anywhere else. As the
Piedmont people can not vote in every
county, however, they will be unable
to pay their respects to many of them
until they become candidates for State
offices. Coi. Charles H. Simonton, of
Charleston, (thc jjf man's friend,) is
one man whom we are especially, anx?
ious to see placed in a position where
the up-country can get a whack at him.
If au assault on the taxpayer's pocket
has missed his leadership since he sat
in the house we can not recall it at the
present writing.
The Census.
Greer, ville News.
Governor's Thompson's duty is plain.
The constitution expresses it so that
everybody eau understand it, and no
quibble or plea of expediency or econ?
omy can excuse evasion of it. It is his
duty to order the enumeration as soon
as it is practicable, and it is practica?
ble DOW. He can call the legislature
in extra sesteo to make the sppropria
for expenses or he can order the enu?
meration aud let the next legislature
provide for the expenses The statutes
fix the manner of making the enumer?
ation and the rate of compensation.
Governor Thompson mnst order the
enumeration and do it soon. Tf he does
not there will be no remedy and the
people of some counties will remain in?
definitely deprived of their rights while
others will continue to enjoy the fruits
of a flagrant fraud. He will be false to
his oath of ofiice, accessory to an act of
political gra?d larceny and will assume
a heavy share of responsibility for the
disruption of the State and the party.
It may be as wei! understood tbat the
peoplo of the up-country who organized
and have given strength to the demo- j
eratic organization will not submit much
longer to having it used as a means ro
oppress, degrade and defraud them, j
They will stick to it while there is hope
or reason for hope of making it a real j
democratic party, managed iq tb? inter?
est of the whole State.. When that, hope,
is gone there will be plenty pf men to
raise..the standard., of ^egult and .plenty
to. follow it. The.jJQncfjf^.: ?Jiicn-We?
among the first to std in the revolution^
of 1876, will hare its t)lace t? tfie new
one if it is force?!._
The low-Country Took Advantage
of the/Up-Cpttntair. 3 " v
4, Prat and ?ofjjer.^ . %
, Charleston has come off victorious ity
thc Legislatare. Thron^b n^aj^.whtcik
we do not understand,: ^be General ?M*
eem.bly, consented for CoarjesXo?;.b:ino*
uopolizesjx teats .in .thc jrlouse of Hep?,
re sen tatty es which, did. not bekug Mt
her,, J?ut which belonged to the country
districts.,,.t As ; pur < v readers , knowt
Charleston, through favoritism, io the
organ ic law of the State; lawfolly claims,
two, seats in the Senate white ojtaer.
counties have bat one, and ,now she Joy
(be defeat of the Census bili, ia allotted
to usurp 8eal3 in ,the, $ouse of Repre~
seo ta ti ves to which the world knows sher
has cot even the semblance of ;js?f?i
right. Charleston..,t:hen... vmf -Beast - ot
the advantage which she takes ia th\$
matter," lui we trust the wrong which
bas been thus inflicted upon her neigh?
bors may awaken them ano! arouse m
their hearts a jost indignation at the act
which bas been practiced . upon, them
to their own injury and to Caar?estonra
reproach.. ^ ? ?? ."'
Presumably we are all citizens of tho.
same State and equally, interested; in tha
welfare nf .every, locality within i^bor*
ders._ If we mistake pot, we .have in
times past.heard sectional. feelings de?
precated by the. newspapers and jj>y put
distinguished citisens. _?t Ieas,t we had
become so much impressed with the de^
s i ra bi li ty and importance of. ai?y ingall
feelings of sectional suspicion or jealousy
that the times really- looked ^aVifan
era of harmony. and a universal .broth?
erhood of feeling was about to set in*
wheo, every ci ti Jen. would barean eye
single to the welfare of the whole ?tatev
?)id Charleston realize .this sentiment?
If so,, did she take advantage of the
COD Sd en ce . she had gained^ and thu*
perpetrate a most grievous wrong.upon^
the up-country 1 If Charleston meant
to deal, with us as neighbors and friends^
as citizens of the same State, enjoying
eqoaj,privileges with . herself,' t why did
she not in a frank and neighborly wayt
admit. that there, was a necessity for a?
change in the ajDoortionment, and that
y&o-bad no" desi re^^^j^ad van tage oj
the, up-country? x Bu^J|h^^tqtL^
no such thing. Not satisfied.with'i bav-y?
in g two Senators, she takes, from t h e up?
country six seats in the House of Rep?
resen tati ves to which/ she kn ow*. th at
she,is .not entitled. Buch an sc^^is un?
precedented ,. and. we hope that the
country districts., may assert their self
respect at ?n early day1 and take from*
Charleston what she holds Unjustly.
She bas.no, right b justice to two .Sena;
tors,, and we leave otb era. to. say whether
sbe has usurped six seats in the House
of Representatives by means of which
Charleston should feel no pride.
- II - ,- r^
Work of the l^gii^t?re.
t#e take the .fq?lowing ?xcellen.ir?^
hume ot the work of thc ?egisratufe from]
the Columbia letter pf Richland' to the
Augusta ?hronidei . .< ?[ V ?: -
About 26? ne? Acts and joint Ee*o:
! uti ons were added to the statute books
of the State at the . session of the Legis?
lature just closed. They may be clas?
sified as follows: Itr relation to banks,
7; railroads, 24; corp^^enSi, 10*
courts, 7; proposed ao^admep^tie. the
Constitution,.^ balding apAJoan asr
sociations and savings instituf??Da, 10 ;
towns, ?7 ; ta?es? l?; elections,
roads, bridges ap&terries*,^;;acfcools
and teachers,' ?6';; claims,^;*-prohibi?
tion, 4; anti-prohibition, ^ ; Trial Jus?
tices, 8 ; appropriation and supply bills,
4; Lien Laws, 3;\st?ao^^^
fish and game, 3 ; and miscellaneous,
88. The following railroads Vere char?
tered: Augusta ?nd Abbeville ; Stun-;
morville Street ..Batl.w^a^. ;an4v4?08l
Company j Savannah .^lley.ancl Elber?
ton ; Chester, Green wood\ and" Abbe
viii e ; Ben o etts vi Ile and Alston^ W il -
mington.^Cbad hourn and- hooray ;
Ch craw a#vCamden Short.f^pe j Mount
Pleasant and Sea View ; Orangeburg
and Lewisdale; Oraogeb^g-and Nine?
ty-Six,, and Columbia, il?ew Mrr# audi
Laurens Narrow Gauge? . and. the fol?
lowing to WDS were incorporated : Wind?
sor, in Aiken Couaty ; Modoc, in
Edgefield; Waterloo j m Laurens; Ta?
tum, in Marlboro ; Graham's, in Barn?
well ; Mt, CarnH. .on the Savnnah,
Valley Railroad, in . ?be ville ; Monk's
Corner, in Berkeley * t?lenn =Spriogs,
in Spartan burg \ Knightsyilie, in Col*
letou ; I?umpii ville, io Colleton, and
Foresten, in Clarendon. . . . T .
Among tbe tnost important Acts aro
the f?itowi?g : To prevent and punish'
the adulteration of - food and drink and
thc sale of uoGt and unwholesome arti?
cles of food drink ; jBp^pesl. ibe.
law requiring officers of th^pnitentiarV
to remain in charge of coUvTcts hired tb
contractors ; to change the dates ?zed?
for the meetings of the State Board of
Equalization to conform to the time, ot
listing; to pr?vido for the completion
of the State House ; to regulate the in?
corporation of railroads arid manufac?
turing companies; to prescribe ; the
priorities of certain statutory Kens ;. to
provide for the development of tbe Co?
lumbia Canal; to suppress.the publica?
tion and sale pf obscene literature^to
permit the sale of domestic wines, and
to permit persons liable to road duty to
pay a commutation tax in lien of work
on the public highways.
Celluloid is om pf the most perfect
of imitations ofi?ry, and at the same
time is as in??nable as gunpowder.,
Tbere ougb^^ft a law forbidding Jbe.
cnnnufactur^^Biildren's toys from thia
dangerou^j^^prjce. 1 once had a;Da)?
of celTulofavWich was qeemin^ly^sa
hard as marble, but by Just touching
its polished surface with a lighted match
it burst into a flame that could .onlj .be
extinguished by .plunging it into water/
Nice material this for little gir{s* brace?
lets and necklaces. _ I never Wore any
celluloid cuffs or cojlars after that ex?
periment. Small woodertn?t it ;^?teh